Sweetest Thing
by Allleila
Summary: Companion story to 'Nicest Thing' but in Draco's PoV.  Rating subject to change. Please R&R.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N**: As requested, here is the beginning of Draco's story in the fic _Nicest Things_. I really enjoyed writing this chapter but know there will be plenty of chapters that I will enjoy writing. Draco is a very complicated character to write. He is still pompous and a jer – but he is very deep and mature. Hopefully, I have captured a new kind of Draco but still retained his Draco-ness.

Songs:  
*History of Life*  
Augustana - Stars and Boulevards

*Surprises and Kisses*  
Cary Brothers – Ride

*One of _those_ Girls*  
Augustana – Sweet and Low

-

Chapter 1

_History of Life_

He absolutely abhorred weddings but had made one exception as a favour for a fellow Quidditch star and the bane of his boyhood existence. Ginny Weasley, soon to be Potter, had sent him a frilly little invitation inviting him and a 'guest' to her and Potter's nuptials. He knew about this union from the start but the details had grown out of control as the days ticked down. The Daily Prophet had becomes as reliable as The Quibbler and even then, there was a hint of scepticism. He surely didn't believe the dribble the Prophet made– mainly because it had turned into a gossip rag instead of an actual newspaper.

Most of the time he was greeted with a photo of himself or some of his mates on his Quidditch team in compromising positions, on dates that were not dates at all, or causing some kind of ruckus during Quidditch games. In fact, there had hardly been a day where he didn't find some blurb about him – he had gotten so used to it that he barely paid any mind to it. Being famous and a Malfoy was a deadly combination and he hated every second of it. The attention was alright but often times when he sought seclusion he would run into flashing bulbs. Only hiding out in several homes overseas was he able to get some bloody damn peace and quiet. He had utilized and honed his Quidditch skills to join the Falmouth Falcons and soon shot into fame because of how great he was – and he wasn't exaggerating. The only seeker worth competition had been Potter but the scar face had given up flying in exchange to 'make the world a better place.' _What a load of rubbish._

Dressing in his best tailored dress robes with a high collar, Draco checked his reflection in the mirror of his own manor located just outside Falmouth– a small harbouring town that was hardly small since the Quidditch team rose to fame after his joining. His manor was large and domineering yet simpler than the Malfoy manor had been. Never one for gaudy expressions of his wealth– although one would have thought he was when in reality that was what he called 'toned down.' Rolling acres with large hedges and stone walls, his own House-elves and at least seven bedrooms, seven baths, a large foyer, study, personal library, kitchen, dining room, living room, and a parlour for when he, Theo and Blaise held their monthly get-togethers.

Draco cracked his neck, stiff from that evening's practice session, and pulled his dress travel cloak from the hook on his door. He flipped it out, brushing off any loose lint and draped it over his shoulders. He had grown from how he looked during his school days. Towering a little over six feet, Draco had square shoulders, a slim waist and athletic build. He was tall and proportionate with a chiselled chin, square jaw and had smooth pale skin with a touch of peach. Once he held his father's fashion of long hair but found it far too distracting while playing and opted to cut it short enough to either slick back or let fall over his face in a mop of silvery blond.

He sniffed when the door opened and a carriage awaited him drawn by magic and not horses. _Like he needed the extra mouths to feed anyway._ Draco pulled the door open and took a seat, waiting patiently as the carriage stormed off above the clouds. He had no intentions of actually going but had decided that he might as well attend – or else he'd be at the end of Ginny's very short blunt stick. It was surprising how well they got along after their years at Hogwarts and subsequent actions at the end of the war. He surmised it had to do with him risking his neck to save Potter – when in reality he only did so because he knew the outcome of the war and wanted some kind of reason to keep him and his family out of Azkaban. Heroic? No. Selfish? One-hundred per cent.

He hadn't had any contact with anyone from school, outside Theo, Blaise and occasionally Pansy, so imagine his surprise when he played against the Holyhead Harpies and found Ginny on their team. What started off as a rivalry turned into tolerance and then into respect. There had been some articles that highlighted their 'relationship' _or lack thereof_ and he had to deal with fuming red headed siblings as well as Boy Wonder himself. Only when Ginny cleared up the matter did he receive his solitude and a little hint of smugness knowing how jealous Potter had gotten over the supposed matter. Always one to fight first and never look at the details.

The carriage stopped at the entrance to the large hall that was typically used for large charity events or parties thrown by various Quidditch teams. Only those who expected such large numbers of people used this particular hall and why wouldn't they? It wasn't very often The Boy Who Triumphed _bloody stupid name in his opinion_ got married to the She-Weasel. He stepped out and inhaled as a gust of cold wind blew through his slim form. Clutching to the edge of his dress cloak, Draco held his breath in fear of face turning pink, which it probably already was. He walked up the large steps and pushed through crowds of reporters and photographers stupid enough to wait outside for a chance glimpse of the wedding. To his dismay, his appearance had gotten their attention and he was half blinded by the flashing bulbs and deafened by the screams of people asking random questions.

"Sod off, you wankers." Draco muttered as he watched the front gate open for him.

The large hall was warmer than it was outside to his relief. He pulled his travel cloak from him and handed it to a large nosed man in traditional dress robes that servants normally wore. Draco shook his hands from their frozen state and followed a crowd of people who were gathering in the middle of the room.

"Oi! Malfoy!" came the voice of Theodore Nott from the crowd.

The tall, thin lanky man jumped through the crowd happily as he came to Draco. They exchanged handshakes followed by half a hug. Nott had done some growing up after the war but was still several inches shorter than he was. He had broader shoulders and wrinkles at the corners of his eyes – laugh lines as well. Draco was lucky in that his genes offered him little time to age like others; he still had a smooth face.

"Nice to see you, Nott," Draco laughed as Theo was pushed forward by a very large Umbridge– who looked as if her face were sagging.

"It's bloody freezing outside!" Another voice echoed, coming up behind Theo. Blaise Zabini.

He and Draco hardly got along in school but afterward they became quite good friends. Zabini was a correspondent for an Italian newspaper, owned several wineries throughout France, and had married Potter's ex, Cho Chang. He hardly remembered the story of how they met – something about Cho knocking him down in Diagon Alley and it had been history from there. He looked over Zabini's shoulder and noted the small Asian with long dark hair and a large belly speaking with a mousy haired girl laden with scars across her forehead. The arrival of their first child had been buzz amongst purebloods for months – Zabini's mother apparently thought that their child would look marvellous because of their genes and mixed heritage. _Load of uninteresting rubbish._

"Did you get a look at Pansy? I swear that bint thinks this thing is some kind of husband market." Theo laughed, chuckling when Zabini scowled as he was pushed out of the way by a very annoyed looking Cormac McLaggen.

"Like you haven't been gawking at her, Nott. Even in school you drooled over the wretch." Blaise chuckled, brushing off what looked like feline hair from his own tailored dress robes.

"It's hard _not_ to gawk when she's flaunting her… ahem… assets," Theo cleared his throat, causing all three to chuckle.

"I haven't seen her yet," Draco shrugged, noticing the looks Blaise and Theo gave him.

"Let's pray to Merlin that she doesn't lay eyes on you. We'd never get a moment alone with you," Theo laughed, nudging Blaise – who now was picking pieces of lint Theo had attracted onto his black dress robes.

Compared to Blaise and Draco, Theo looked positively impoverished with dark gray dress robes that hung a little loose on his form. His dirty blond hair was nearly as long as Draco's yet parted down the middle and tucked behind the crook of his ears. Of course, being that his father was sent to Azkaban right after the final battle it was quite obvious he had lived below their own wealthy status. However, Draco had a feeling Theo didn't mind and found himself living comfortably working as a researcher for potions. He was also very involved in charities – most of which Draco attended at his request – and seemed to change most dramatically since he graduated. Blaise was the same, tall, dark, and handsome– according to women and not Draco himself. Towering over Draco by three inches, Blaise only wore the best and showed off his wealth far more than any Malfoy– which is an understatement. He aged well, better than Draco had, with a chiseled jaw and dark mocha skin, but it wasn't as if they were in their forties. At twenty-five they looked similar to hooligans then adults with real jobs. If anything, Blaise was still the same– extremely hard to please with a thick skull and a tad bit of narcissism.

_Surprises and Kisses_

"Ladies and gentlemen, please take your seats according to the bride or groom's side." A portly man announced with a wand pointed at his throat.

"Which side are you sitting at?" Theo asked as the trio moved with the crowd.

"Weasley," Draco shrugged, "I got the invite from her."

"I did too," Theo shrugged, "I worked with Charlie in Romania collecting dragon scales for a potion that…"

"We came to a wedding, Nott," Blaise interrupted, wrapping his arm around a very pregnant Cho's waist, "Not to hear about your potion making."

"Ah, right. Right." Theo nodded, coming to stand beside Draco as they made their way to their seats.

Draco purposely sat at the far end and stretched one leg out. His eyes darted around at the familiar faces he had seen and a large number he had never laid eyes on before. The music began and everyone perked up as the sight of everyone walking down the aisle. Draco watched his cousin, Nymphadora; walk past with brilliant vibrant hair, carrying a light bouquet of flowers. Followed by a curly-haired witch he hadn't seen before.

Theo nudged him in his gut, "Blimey, look at Granger!"

Draco frowned and looked around, expecting to see some kind of bushy haired girl rambling down the aisle but he saw none, "Where?"

"There," Theo said in a hushed whisper, "In front of Looney Lovegood."

Draco's throat dried and eyes bugged out of his head. There was no way, _no way_, that beautiful creature was Hermione Granger. The last time he saw her was a blip in the newspaper about her making headway on some fancy law for centaurs but even then there was no photo. He leaned forward and watched the witch walk slowly with a smile playing across her lips. Slender, curvy in all the right places, and short – but not too short – and very smooth looking skin, it was almost as if Granger had cast some kind of glamour charm. Draco knew Granger and knew she wouldn't stoop that low even if it were a wedding.

"She looks bloody gorgeous," Theo said with awe, "I reckon if…"

"Sshh," Draco hissed, nodding to a couple who sat in front of them when they turned to stare daggers.

"Sorry," Theo whispered, covering his mouth some as they grew silent.

He kept all eyes on the witch throughout the rest of the ceremony and watched her sway ever so lightly when Potter and Ginny embraced for their first kiss as husband and wife. The crowd rose in applause, as did Draco, but his eyes were glued to the happy looking witch with a small curved smirk playing across his lips.

_One of_ those _Girls_

Draco was never one for parties but only appeared so because he attended quite a few. Normally, he would make an appearance then find some sodding corner and sit around until it was time for him to leave. All the photographers cared about was whether he was chatting up some girl– where normally he wasn't. Theo had made the buffet table his home while Blaise sat with his wife at one of the larger tables littered with former Ravenclaws and Slytherins.

He watched Granger from a distance, sipping at his icy beverage filled with firewhiskey, as she ran around like a chicken with its head cut off. No doubt the supple creature he had laid eyes on was, in fact, Hermione Granger. Her dominating voice penetrated even the tirades of the youngest of children and her bossy nature was proof enough that even with age Hermione Granger was still Hermione Granger. He watched her get a reprieve from the elder Weasley mum and made her way to a table in the middle back section.

Polishing off his drink, Draco returned to a very boring conversation with Cormac McLaggen and some frilly dames who tried their best to gather his attention at one point but was not engrossed in McLaggen's poor attempt at lying.

"So, I told him… I told him 'bugger off, if you want me to get it done you'll have to do more than beg,' Cormac said loudly, stringing his arm around a blond, who giggled.

"Oh wow, really?" She said with a nasally sound, causing Draco's nose to twitch.

"What about you, Malfoy?" Cormac asked, quirking an eyebrow at the blond wizard, "You have any rueful stories about your days on the pitch?"

"None," Draco replied with a mild shrug, "None that are as interesting as yours are."

He quirked his own eyebrow in knowing, causing Cormac's face to turn red and stumble over his next words.

"I'm sure you've had some," he said, "I mean you _are_ quite popular with the ladies and I hear that even Bulgaria tried to get you for their team."

"Rumours, I'm afraid," Draco replied coolly, "Of course, if I wanted to join their team I would have. Unlike some…"

He coughed into his glass and pulled an ice cube from it, crunching on it lightly. Cormac's face looked like it was going to explode at Draco's words – knowing quite well that Draco knew he was full of fluff. His eyes followed Draco's eye line – trained on Hermione's back.

"I hear she swings for the other side," Cormac quickly said, breaking Draco's concentration, "You know. One of _those_ girls."

"Mhm," Draco hummed, bringing his eyes to Cormac, "And how did you come to that conclusion?"

Cormac stiffened, "Well, for one she's alone."

"Many people come to weddings without a date," Draco replied, gazing at Cormac's growing purple face.

"It's not only that, Malfoy. Look at her– no one in their right mind would… and everyone else is already paired off. Of course I always thought there was something wrong with her, ya know?"

"Just because she spurned your affections does not make her one of _those_ girls," Draco shrugged, knowing quite well that Cormac was overworking his brain to think of something witty to say but Draco was hardly in the mood for it. Maybe some other time.

He placed his drink on a platter as a waiter passed and cracked his neck, "If you'll excuse me. Ladies?" He nodded to the group of girls and moved past them while Cormac began spouting random things that made no sense and eventually returned to bragging at something he knew: himself.

As he approached Hermione, his mind was racing and for once he didn't know what to say. And he normally did! He stood beside her with his hands in his pockets, staring out into the scene on the dance floor. Glancing down at her at the corner of his eye, Draco said the first thing that came to mind.

"Not dancing?"

When he finally convinced her to dance with him, he could hardly hear or see straight from how much his heart was beating. It was shocking how such a person he hated during his youth churned his stomach into knots just by looking at him with his doe eyes. She felt as soft as she looked and he couldn't help but smile internally at her innocent – or lack thereof.

His hand skimmed down to her lower back, pressing her against him as her sweet scent of oranges filled the air around him. He brought her hand to his shoulder after a while and leaned against her, inhaling the smell of her hair when she rested her head against his chest. Draco could see Cormac from behind her with wide shocked eyes and couldn't help but grin like a maniac. He raised his eyebrows at the Gryffindor and pulled Hermione from him when the dance ended, not bothering to release her from his grasp.

Little did he know that one question of her not dancing would lead to a very interesting night and a very interesting future.

AN: I'm sorry to say that I only have a few completed chapters for this story so updates will not be as common as Nicest Things. I'm thinking once a week- sorry.

Anyway Review and tell me what you think.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N**: Wow I must say that I am shocked about the reception this tory has received on this site. So thank you one and all that added this story to their alerts/ favourite's list- I really appreciate it. Also a big round of applause to my **13** reviewers. The most I've ever received for a single chapter.

I've decided to move things a little along in terms of Draco's POV. I kept in a crucial part of the story involving their "first time" together but didn't want to dwell on their actions as I had the first three chapters in Hermione's version. Why? Because, I'm impatient and my creative juices don't want to be hampered by what I already wrote. I blame the impatient Draco in me *snickers*

I'm also trying for a new format for the chapters (including where the songs should be placed for those of you who put on the music I wrote the chapters to). So, tell me what you think. I like it because it looks pretty and I like pretty things. Oh…shiny…*scampers off*

Songs  
No Guarantees in Life: Don't Know for How Long  
Kate Havnevik – Unlike Me

Just Textbook Stuff: ABC's of Growing Up  
Imogen Heap – Speeding Cars

No Guarantees in Life: Don't Know for How Long  
===================================================================

She slept so peacefully it was almost as if she weren't alive at all. If it wasn't for the fact that he could feel her warm breath against his chest, her hand move in small circles over his stomach, and her chest rise ever so softly, he would have thought she wasn't real. Draco stared up at the ceiling in her room; half of the bed covers hanging loosely over his waist. She was a blanket and a bed hog, but he didn't mind. Hermione moved against him, her tongue dipping out to lick her lips slowly and sensually. Draco couldn't help but be mesmerized by her. Everything he had known about her when they were younger flew out the coup after this night and he was sure of it.

He didn't know why he accepted her offer for tea– knowing quite well that he wouldn't stay long enough for tea. His nerves had been on end after their long conversation, the longest one he ever had with a woman of the opposite sex he was physically _and mentally_ attracted to. She was intelligent and not in the know-it-all fashion, but she really knew what she was talking about. Hardly talking about him, or herself, their conversation flowed from one subject to another and he found it a relief. Many times Draco found himself bored and on the verge of falling out cold because his dates would yammer about themselves or worse, him.

While in school he would enjoy anything said about him in a positive light, he _was_ an attention seeker after all, now that he was thrust into the spotlight so often he hated it. Seeing himself grace the cover of Witch Weekly every week annoyed him to no end. Why he wanted to know who he was dating, or what kinds of soup he enjoys ordering while out, never appealed to him. Even after winning the coveted Most Charming Bachelor in Britain, Draco shoved every magazine he came across behind others and would groan whenever his mother brought them out when they had company.

Fame and fortune was really hell for him but he had known nothing else and thus endured it far better than others would. He knew that Ginny and Potter wouldn't make it in the spotlight– even after the Dark Lord fell and the world rejoiced– but they did try. Ron Weasley faired far better than Potter, to Draco's surprise, but only because he had lived his life in poverty and the least of everyone's worries he revelled in it. Draco and Blaise had a bet going on of how long it took for him to break. Draco won in the end. Five months of photos, stories and love letters from witches across the seas, Weasley had broken and took to hiding in that dismal shop his twin brothers owned.

Hermione, on the other hand, hadn't embraced fame and fortune at all. Instead, she used it to push bill after bill and rise higher in her employment. He hardly heard a thing about her but he also hadn't been looking. If anything, he expected her to be pregnant and barefoot with seven little red headed kids running around. His assumptions of her had drastically changed in the course of one night and it confused it. It _really_ confused him.

Draco stiffened when Hermione moved, finally and brought her hand to his hip draping it over his stomach. He sighed and closed his eyes, debating on whether he should stay for the night. Like he wanted to wake up to an awkward morning and it wasn't his style. One night stands weren't ever meant to be soft and sensual, not like he had her several times this night. Normally, he would rut against a girl and leave right after. They never said anything because they either were too flabbergasted that he'd leave or that they got him. It didn't matter anymore.

Tracing his left hand over the side of Hermione's bare form, Draco fell into a small slumber. Their breaths soon moved in unison as the moon rose over them and settled on one side. As soon as the sun hit his face, Draco's eyes popped open and he groaned quietly. Bringing a hand to his face, he rubbed his crusted eyes and felt a small pang of headache worming its way though. Today was going to be a stressful day and he knew it. He looked through one eye down at the still sleeping form of Hermione and brought his hand to her, slowly rolling her onto her back.

Draco watched as Hermione moved like flowing fabric to her side of the bed, effectively stealing the rest of the sheets. He moved to the edge of the bed, allowing his feet to touch the ground and ran his hands through his hand, rubbing his face harder afterward to make himself more awake. He stretched his toes and listened to the cracking of his back as he rose. Striding naked past Hermione's window, Draco paused and leaned forward just a tad as two large bottle coke eyes were staring straight at him. A plump woman popped up from the hedges on the side of Hermione's yard with wide eyes, her face flushed red. His eyes followed her eye line straight to his crotch and he found himself grinning. Looking back at the woman, who had turned beat red at this point, Draco placed his hands on his hips and stretched more, arching his chest back some. He winked when she caught his eye and he nearly laughed as she toppled over the hedge trying to weasel her way back to her property.

Dressing silently, Draco pulled the sheets from Hermione and fluffed her pillow. He picked her dress from the floor, followed by her shoes and undergarments – tossing those into the hamper beside her dresser, and hung her dress onto the hook on her door. Why he had gone to so much trouble was beyond him. He really hated messes, but he was hardly clean himself he had house-elves clean up after him all his life. It might be that reason why he didn't like to see things dishevelled and Hermione… well she was the picture of dishevelment.

Opening the door to her bedroom, he looked down at the large ginger cat sitting in front of the door staring at him. His large green eyes narrowed as if he were assessing if Draco was worthy enough of keeping his testicles for the day and seemed to approve. Draco stepped over the cat and moved into the kitchen, the animal following him dutifully from behind. He jumped onto the table and sat, watching Draco pick the teabags from the floor and placed the mugs closer together. That ruddy cat was starting to give him the creeps as he watched him move from the kitchen to the closet.

The cat jumped from the table and followed him as Draco pulled his traveling cloak from the hanger and was about to pull his arm in it when the cat sat by his feet and just stared. Ok, so this thing was _really_ starting to creep him out. Draco looked around, wondering if the animal needed or wanted anything but found nothing.

"Don't worry," Draco said quietly, feeling awkward talking to an animal who probably didn't understand him, "This isn't just a frilly shag. If it was I would have left hours ago."

The cat seemed satisfied by Draco's answer as he instantly moved and bounded away toward the bedroom. Draco stared at the backside of the cat until he disappeared around the corner and quirked an eyebrow.

"Weird."

He pulled the handle of the door and left. As he made his way to the Apparition point– not wanting to just disappear on Hermione's doorstep, Draco paused when the large bottle coke eyed woman looked at him as she sheered her rose buses.

"M'am," Draco said, tipping his head as he shoved his hands into his pockets.

The woman dropped her sheers and moved to the hedge, resting her hands on the top of it with her mouth lowered.

"Blimey, that is one gorgeous man," he heard her whisper in a small cracking voice.

He couldn't help but grin. Of course, he was gorgeous. He had just spent the evening with a woman who once pissed him off and now intrigued him. The afterglow of great sex was real magic. Screw glamour charms.

Just Textbook Stuff: ABC's of Growing Up  
===================================================================

Diagon Alley had changed over the years and, in Draco's opinion, it had changed for the better. No longer a narrow alleyway of small shops, it had expanded and included a large marble fountain that was surrounded by pigeons and round white metal sun tables that were packed with families and couples alike. Older wizards were stationed closer to the fountain playing wizard's chess while young children took knuts from their mothers or fathers and threw the coins into the fountain– making a wish and hoping they'd come true.

Pulling his hood up, Draco shoved his hands into his pockets and moved through the crowds. While it was sunny outside, the wind picked up and had sent shivers down most people. Not to mention, Draco didn't really like being spotted by people as he made his way to Kirkland's Post, the newly erected post office ran by a very boisterous blob of a man with a tuff of grey hair on his shiny head, to pick up his letters. His home had become Unplottable after his rise to fame and his only joy during his days off were to pick up his letters and packages from his mother and father. It had been four weeks since his last 'day off' being that the team was working hard to get to the Quidditch World Cup. Four weeks since he spent that night with Hermione. He had planned on meeting his mother for lunch but decided to come early so he wouldn't have to make a mad dash to the post office during rush time.

He entered the small shop and was greeted by several employees wearing emerald green robes with owls of every kind stitched onto their sleeves. Draco pulled the hood from his cloak down and brought his hands to his hair– running his fingers along the strays to put them back into place. Two girls with bright green eyes, the size of a barn owl's own peepers, beamed at him as he approached.

"Letters and parcels for D. Malfoy." Draco said nonchalantly, trying to look past two sets of large emerald eyes.

It irked him the way they stared at him and he felt himself becoming a tad paranoid. Who knew what these girls were thinking– well he could find out but he really didn't want to. The shorter one with her blond hair in pig tails gaped at him after he spoke, as if he had flashed her– which he most _certainly_ did not. Her sister nudged her when she noticed that Draco had noticed and turned bright red.

"Yes, sir." The Twat A said, not budging as she nudged her sister, Twat B, and tilted her head back for Twat A to get the parcels, but she clearly didn't want to.

Draco pulled his lips into his mouth and hummed once, nodding slightly as his eyes scanned the other customers, most of who were staring at him intently. He cracked his neck and strained to look elsewhere finding two roosting owls quite entertaining for the moment. Twat B ended up running to get his parcels and returning quickly with her arms full.

"Wow, you sure have a lot of… letters." Twat A crooned, leaning over the table as she slid a book forward followed by a quill.

"I'm sure," Draco nodded, grabbing the quill. He hesitated for a moment after he felt the warm, oddly stinky, breath of Twat A and B hovering over him.

Glancing up, he quirked an eyebrow and smirked. His curved slips sent them into a blushing frenzy, giving him enough time to quickly jot his name down and reach for his packages.

"Let me help you," Twat B chirped, grasping onto a parcel that was closest to her.

"No, let me help you!" Twat A snarled, growling at her sister as she grabbed the same parcel and a tug-of-war began.

Draco merely shook his head and pulled his wand out, shrinking his parcels until they were able to fit into his label pocket. He glanced up at the large melted clock to look at the time before clearing his throat.

"I'm sure I can manage," Draco said lightly, plucking the package from their greedy little hands, "But, if I need _any_ assistance in the future, I'll know who to come to. Thank you."

They beamed at him and sighed in unison as he walked past them. "He's so dreamy." Twat B said, resting her chin on her hand. "No duh. He's Draco Malfoy. Of course he's dreamy." Twat A scolded, "And he was totally talking to me." Twat B growled, "What? No! He was talking to me!"

An elderly woman walked up to the counter and placed her parcel on the table, digging into her purse for her change. Twat A and B started a screaming match and ended up knocking the elderly woman's parcel on top of her, sending potions and supplies flying everywhere. They winced and shouted a 'Sorry!' in unison. Idiots.

Draco pulled his hood over his head once more and exited, feeling the cold draft of autumn breeze through his robes. He tucked his hands under his arms and moved through the crowd, ducking under a large parcel someone was carrying and jumping back when another person came crashing out of the Quidditch Shop carrying several brooms under his arms.

He finally made it to a small café that sat next to Ollivander's and looked over the sea of heads. He spotted his mother across the way, and smiled when she noticed him as well. Climbing through the crowded tables, Draco sat with his back to the other occupants and removed his hood. Narcissa leaned in and brushed her lips against his cheek before he sat.

"Darling," she cooed, tracing her hand over Draco's subtle features, "You look exhausted, have you been sleeping well?"

Did she really want him to answer that? Had he been sleeping well? His bed was three times the size of a king size, he had the softest comfortable in all of Britain, and he was always so exhausted after every Quidditch practice that he hardly made it out of the shower before he plopped for the night. If that was what she meant when she asked if he was sleeping well, then yes. If she meant whether he had that bloody Gryffindor on his mind, plaguing his dreams and making him moan her name out as he…_ahem_ enough thoughts on that. Then no, he was not sleeping peacefully.

"Yes, mother," Draco replied with a curt nod, resting his hand on the table. "How have you and father been?"

"Oh, very busy. You know." Narcissa smiled, "He's working so much at the Ministry and I have my thing with the Prophet."

Oh yeah, he forgot to mention what happened to _his_ family after the war. Well, Lucius was saved from the gallows, Azkaban and Dementors after Draco's little stunt that saved 'The Boy Who Triumphed' _snort_ and after some time was given his job back at the Ministry. He still held his prejudices against Muggle-borns and Muggles in general but, unlike Draco's younger years, kept his opinions to himself. His mother, well, she went to work for the first time in her life. He had a feeling it was something to do with starting a new leaf, or whatever that bloody phrase was, but she looked happy and he was happy for her.

No longer wearing robes of flowing colours, Narcissa Malfoy toned down her look and kept her long billowy blond hair in a loose up-do with strands that fell over her perfect face. She kept up with her high end fashion and tailor made robes but instead of long dresses and the like, stayed with skirts of mocha brown and fashionable dress jackets and blouses. Working as junior editor of the Prophet had its benefits– in that Draco would always be the first to know what was about to be published– but unfortunately she was overruled by a very annoying, very blond Rita Skeeter. How that bint got senior editor was beyond him.

"Speaking of which," Naricssa smirked, "How is that lovely girl you were seeing? The one from Greece?"

"Don't know," Draco shrugged, flagging down a waiter where he order a sandwich and fizzy drink, "Haven't spoken to her in months."

Narcissa sighed and plopped her chin onto her hand, giving Draco the 'why is it my boy never finds love' look. He hated it and wanted to hex it off her face, but he loved his mother and she'd hit him with twice as many hexes before he could even draw his wand. Unlike popular belief, Narcissa was rather talented with both potion making and charms, hexes, the like. She was a pretty face, far prettier than most, but she was bloody brilliant as well. After all, Lucius wouldn't have married a stupid bim who just looked good on his arm. Well, he might of but he got lucky with Draco's mum.

"There's a snippet I read about you and a certain Muggle-born witch when Rita covered Potter's wedding," Narcissa grinned, noting Draco's shoulders slump in defeat.

"What do you want to know, mother?" Draco breathed, nodding to the waiter as he set his food in front of him. All of a sudden, he wasn't so hungry.

"Oh, nothing." She said teasingly, leaning back in her seat, "Just _everything_. Did you like her? Did she like you?"

"Urgh," Draco slumped back in his seat and flicked at the chips on his plate, watching it fall onto the long white table cloth, "Do we _have_ to talk about my sex life, mother? I thought we were just coming out to lunch…"

"So you had sex with her," Narcissa looked thoroughly interested, and it annoyed Draco.

"I am _not_ talking to _you_ about that," Draco groaned, flicking another chip onto the table cloth.

"It's only sex, Draco," his mother crooned, leaning forward again, "I saw the pictures of you two together. You looked really happy."

"I was probably sneezing," Draco mumbled, nibbling on the end of a chip before he tossed it into his glass of water.

"Stop playing with your food," Narcissa scolded, cupping her hand over the glass of water to prevent a fourth chip from flying into it. "Now, I'm not going to judge if you really like this girl."

"Oh gods, mother!" Draco said annoyed, "It was just a bloody dance, alright? I asked her to dance, we danced and that was it."

His voice was a little louder than he wanted, causing several patrons to turn and look. His face turned red and he tried to hide himself by using his hand as a partition. His mother, however, merely grinned at him with her piercing cobalt blue eyes.

"I don't see why it is such a big deal, Draco honey." She said softly, in her motherly voice, "I am interested in what my son is up to and…"

"And you want me to start having babies, I know."

"You are turning twenty-six in a few months."

"Don't remind me," Draco groaned, "Listen, mother, what you think is happening between me and Hermione…."

"Hermione and I." Narcissa corrected, "I didn't send you to Hogwarts or have the best tutors for you to use incorrect grammar while trying to hide things from me."

"Whatever," Draco flipped his hand out and brought it to his head, scraping his hair back, "I had a one night stand with her, alright? Happy? I said it."

"Oh honey," Narcissa cooed, resting her hand on his own, "Did she kick you out?"

"What?" Draco snapped, "No! Of course not! I _left_ her."

Narcissa gave him _that_ look and he was really beginning to regret spilling it all to his mother, _his_ mother for cripes' sake! It was the look she gave his father whenever he mumbled 'mudblood' or something obscene whenever they passed muggles. Unlike him, she had become increasingly tolerant with half-bloods, muggle-borns, and even muggles. It was rather strange at first, but he didn't really care as long as _she_ didn't bring him to Muggle London or anything like that.

"I'm disappointed," Narcissa said in a soft calm tone, "I thought I raised you better."

"Ma," Draco groaned, "It was a one night stand. It didn't mean anything."

"How do you know? Maybe this girl really liked you and you… my darling… blew it because your father thinks it's proper etiquette to leave after a quick shag," she said firmly, "I'll let you in on a little secret, Draco. Girls are not stupid. They may, however, be oblivious at times but every action you take; they will analyse. Women enjoy analysing feelings, emotions and even body language. From what I witnessed, your body language was far more interested in that girl then _you_ think."

"You aren't making any sense," Draco mumbled, "I got lost after girls are not stupid."

Narcissa sighed and brought her fingers to the bridge of her nose, "What am I going to do with you?"

"Not pry into my personal life? That's a start," Draco said, giving his mother a cheeky grin when she shot daggers at him.

"You should owl her," Narcissa finally said after a moment of silence, "It might be nice for you think actually get to know a girl before you toss her."

"Fine, whatever," Draco grumbled, taking a bite of his chip like he was taking his frustrations out on it.

"You'll thank me, and I want grandbabies before I get grey hair," Naricssa said, emphasizing the grandchildren part.

Of course, she was getting to that stage where all of her friends' children were having children and he blamed Blaise and his pregnant wife for that. Even though, a part of Draco wanted to see what could come with Hermione. Maybe it wasn't just a night of shagging _and_ he had promised that damn cat it wasn't just a shag.

AN: I hope this chapter lives up to all of your expectations. Review and let me know what you think.


	3. Chapter 3

An: Sorry guys, but thanks for informing me. Here is the true chapter three of Sweeyest Thing.

Songs  
Love's Just a Shadow that You Cast  
Air Traffic – Just Abuse Me

In the Light of the Sun  
Augustana – Boston

I'll be at Your Window Begging for More  
Air Traffic – Shooting Star

Love's Just a Shadow that You Cast  
===================================================================

The Ministry of Magic could hardly keep him out if he wanted to get in. With his father's old connections, his fame, name and money he was able to simply walk in as if he owned the place. Draco hardly had to say a word and the Minister of Magic would roll over and play dead, fetch, and even brings the newspaper if and when he wanted. He used this to his advantage, of course. Walking through the pearly white gates of the Ministry, just beyond the torrent of Floos, Draco strode passed several people who had just realized who he was. He could feel the eyes of envy, shock and a tad bit of hatred burn into his back as the edge of his travel cloak billowed behind him. His cobalt eyes scanned the immediate crowd, focusing on the large projection in the center of the room. Apparently, the Aurors had made some kind of break on a case involving his dearly departed aunt Bellatrix, who seemed to stash a load of Dark Objects in her old home at the edge of Cogsworth.

He remembered the faithful day he came bursting into the Ministry, a man on a mission. He didn't bother asking for where she was, he knew thanks to his father. The stares he received were enough to make even a troll blush, but he merely brushed it off. He met a bint of a woman named Charlene at the entrance to the Department of Magical Creatures and tried to shrug her off as he made his way to Hermione Granger's office. She, of course, would try everything in her miniscule brain to get attention from him, going so far as to push her quill into her cleavage. It only made him chuckle, not in his head but out loud, there were no need for niceties for a woman he hardly knew.

She made it difficult, Hermione that is. First she ignored him, insulted him, and finally with the help of her lovely boss Draco had ensnared her. Their first lunch had gone as expected. Neither spoke much but when the conversation was started, he didn't know who spoke first or initiative the conversation just that it did, it didn't end. Three hours of speaking over cold coffee and remnants of a club sandwich made his day. He was able to sleep well that night, knowing that if he was able to convince her to lunch one day he would be able to do it again.

This was where he was at now, their third lunch and he was looking forward to it. Their second lunch consisted of her commenting on his lack of manners toward the servers and he commented on her lack of propriety and manners at the table. Of all the women he went to lunch, dinner, or even just shagged, her table manners were abysmal. She didn't order the typical salad with light dressing instead she went straight for the item that held more carbohydrates than he would have even thought possible. Not only that, she ate every bit of it and didn't once think that she cared. She licked her fingers after eating fruit, which was actually a turn on but that's beside the point. She had the tendency to pick her teeth with her fingers instead of spelling the remnants away. Her mannerisms were shocking to say the least.

Standing in front of her office, Draco nodded to her newest assistant a large boned girl named Gretel, and merely opened the door. It didn't matter if she was busy, they had scheduled a lunch and he was always on time. She sat at her desk looking over missives and didn't seem to notice that he was standing in the doorway looking like he had never spent so much time getting ready for a lunch date. Wearing black slacks with a form fitting coal grey dress shirt, the top buttons undone and his most expensive black travel cloak and robes, Draco thought he looked positively dashing. Only _she_ would say otherwise.

"Granger," he said, clearing his voice while still standing at the door, "Must you spend all day in the dark?"

He noticed how substantially different the lighting was in this room compared to where he was standing and in the other cubicles. The shades were drawn and the only light source was her billowing fire in the hearth nearby.

"I like working like this, you have to wait I'm not…." She began but wasn't allowed to finish.

"No excuses," Draco replied, striding over to the office where he placed his hand over the missive, "Lunch at twelve thirty and it is now twelve thirty one. Do I have to throw you over my shoulder or are you going to come willingly?"

She looked up at him with those sparkling doe eyes and smiled. Putting her papers down, Hermione stood and Draco finally caught a glance at what she was wearing. A light grey office skirt with a large black dragon hide belt secured around her waist, a white button up blouse with a few buttons undone showing her creamy skin. He hadn't noticed but her hair looked softer and like a row of curls just falling over her shoulders like expensive silk curtains. He grinned she had dressed up for him, how quaint.

"I need to be back by two," Hermione replied, walking over to grab her cloak, "I have a meeting with the Minister."

"The Minister can wait for now, I don't want to speak about work," Draco waved his had dismissively, watching her pull her travel cloak on, a light shade of cream that lightened her eyes.

He sniffed and averted his eyes from staring too much. Hermione pulled her hair from under her cloak and looked back at him.

"Alright, whatever, no work," Hermione shrugged, opening the door to her office, "Nothing spicy either, last time I smelled like garlic all day and that wasn't very conductive to my cause when I'm talking to vampires."

Draco laughed, "You had to order it because I threatened to snog you senseless. Offer is still up by the way."

"Mmm," Hermione rolled her eyes and didn't bother taking the arm he offered, not that it phased him one bit. He was used to her lack of etiquette by now.

Holding the door open, Draco watched Hermione pass under his arm easily and tell Gretel that she was going out to lunch. Draco nodded curtly to the woman before winking, causing her to blush heavily and turn away. He loved getting that reaction from people, even though it didn't work with Hermione. Damn.

"I was thinking Wizarding Paris for lunch," Draco said walking closely beside Hermione, "My mum recently found a nice restaurant that I have been dying to try out and since you refuse my offers of dinner, lunch will have to do."

"Do you always take your parents' opinions of things into consideration?" Hermione asked, glancing up at him under her long lashes.

"Only when it is, as you say, '_conductive_ to life,' then yes," Draco replied as they made their way to the large telephone booth that would transport them to the apparation point.

He despised the Floor because it had the tendency to stick to his robes and after a while he'd smell like Floo powder. Apparating was far more acceptable and he quite enjoyed the feeling of being sucked through something small.

Draco held the door to the telephone booth open and stepped in. There were several people in there already and it made it look impossible for six, let alone two, people to fit inside a typical Muggle telephone booth from the outside. It was quite roomy inside and Draco found his usual place in the center of the booth, standing shoulder to shoulder with a man wearing a large filly hat. Apparently, he was going to the Muggle world and didn't know what to wear. Dreadful.

In the Light of the Sun  
===================================================================

The Bon Vivant Bistro was not only famous for its world renowned chef, a squib, but also for its décor, taste and expensive nature. It was located between two of the most expensive clothing stores, which Draco was a frequent customer of, in the entire area. Lopsided and towering over the shops, the bistro was an odd colour of teak and grey. It looked like a mini cottage that had been squeezed from a tube to make it several stories and elongated. Lone green vines that had white jasmine flowers climbed over the massive bistro, making it look a bit out of place. Cherubs were seen floating through the air with trays of incense over families, couples, and the occasional out of town wizard or witch.

He heard Hermione groan beside him and glance down at her with a quirked eyebrow, "Don't like my choice? You picked that abysmal fish and chips shop in Venice…_Venice_. We were in one of the most beautiful countries in the world and you picked _fish and chips_ of all things."

"Sorry that I'm not jumping over cauldrons," Hermione grumbled, "I hate these types of expensive places. It makes me feel so…"

"Yes, well you don't have to feel _that_ not with me," Draco interrupted, knowing how Hermione felt about such places but it was his turn to choose a restaurant and this was one of the best bistros in the area. When it came to dining her out, he'd never pick anything half-arsed.

"If I can't read the menu then I will clobber you with it," Hermione grinned wickedly, her doe eyes flickering with menace

"Deal," Draco said, bringing his arm out to her, "Shall we?"

"Yup," Hermione replied, again ignoring his arm and moving first.

He sighed and followed shortly, coming to stand in front of a tall toothpick of a man whom he assumed to be the maitre d'. The shallow man took one look at Draco and gasped. Speaking rapidly in French, he ushered the couple through the doors, nearly knocking over a few cherubs on the way to a table specifically reserved for Malfoys. He heard Hermione snort but didn't look at her, only grinned.

Holding her chair out for her, Hermione plopped very much like someone who had never been to a fine dining restaurant and promptly placed her elbows on the table. The corner of his lip twitched but he could only laugh and sit across from her.

"I should've known you'd get that sort of reaction," Hermione grumbled, looking at her glass of water.

"There are certain perks for being who I am," Draco shrugged, "We didn't have to wait for a table though."

"Yes but the rest of the line did," Hermione glanced toward the large crowd standing around for a table, "Don't you feel rotten for taking some one's table?"

"Honestly?" he quirked an eyebrow, "No. It's a dragon-eat-dragon world out there, Granger. Applies even to lunch."

She laughed when he grinned and shook her head, "Figures."

"Your menu mademoiselle," the maitre d' said from beside them, handing her a single sheet of parchment that was enchanted to show actual photos of the food and roughly eighteen different translations.

"Thank you," Hermione nodded, taking the menu and glancing it over, "Well, so much for being able to clobber you."

Draco nodded to the maitre d', who had apparently decided to take their table as his own, "That saves me from having to buy potions to ride myself of a black eye, thank Merlin."

They chuckled together and looked over the menu in silence. After ordering their meal, in which Hermione didn't hesitate to order something other than a salad, Draco and Hermione began bickering about Muggles. His fingers traced over the top of his wine glass as she decided to lay into him about his inability to understand that they are happy without magic. He couldn't believe it for one second. It wasn't that his thoughts of Muggles hadn't changed over the years, it had, but he was still against assimilating into that culture as it were.

"They can do things without magic," Hermione said, sipping her water, "You're just assuming that they are incompetent…"

"I wasn't assuming Muggles are incompetent, I was stating that they were," Draco replied in a matter-of-fact tone, "I mean, traveling by Muggle transportation is far primitive."

"You travelled on the Hogwarts Express, _that_ is a type of Muggle transportation," Hermione argued, stabbing her steak with her fork.

"_That_ was unavoidable. Believe me, if there were any other way I would have taken it," Draco shrugged, sipping at his expensive merlot, "I'm just saying, why is everyone so obsessed with Muggle culture? It's like some kind of fashion choice all of a sudden. No more robes, all Muggle clothing."

"That's where we agree," Hermione answered, "I find it silly and pedantic that wizards and witches only care about Muggle culture because they think it's something _cool_. Ridiculous."

"So you are agreeing that Muggles are ridiculous," he grinned, twisting her words to his liking.

She glared at him and took a stab at her potatoes, making him wince as if he was imagining that was what she wanted to do to him at that moment.

"You wouldn't be able to survive one day in the Muggle world," Hermione was testing him and he knew it.

"Really?" Draco said, leaning back in his seat, "You really want to make that bet, Granger?"

"It's the truth. You speak of how inferior Muggles are but have you spent one day in the Muggle world without a wand? Not just London but a _real_ Muggle town."

"Like where you live?" he quirked an eyebrow, watching her brows frown.

"Exactly," Hermione replied, chewing slowly.

At least she finished eating before she spoke, which he couldn't say about her little red headed friend. During school, he often looked over at the table and noticed the entire Weasel clan had the perchance to chew with their mouths full _and_ hold conversations. Disgusting.

"Alright," Draco leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table, "I'll spend a day with you in the Muggle town…"

"Wh-What?" Hermione blinked at him, clearly she was going through her conversations in her mind to see when she agreed or even offered to take him out in the Muggle world.

"You too afraid that I'd fit in like a king, eh?" Draco prodded, watching her clench her jaw.

"Of course not," Hermione replied, "If, _if_ you're going to spend a day in my town then you have to follow my rules."

"Which would be?"

"No magic."

"Doable."

"No robes."

"Muggle clothing? Hm, not my preference but feasible."

He'd have to rummage through his mother's Muggle magazines to see what they wore. Merely going into a shop and requesting Muggle wear was not exactly what he wanted to do. It had to be discrete. After all, a Malfoy wearing Muggle clothing was unconscionable and just plain weird.

"No mentioning anything to do with the magical world."

"Because I want people to think I'm daft," he snorted.

"And you have to listen and do what I say."

"No game."

"What?" Hermione blinked at him and frowned, "I'm not going to let you run amok…"

"I'm not going to 'run amok' in your little town, Granger," Draco said with a slight sneer, "If anything, I'll just endure it and show that I can too survive in such a place… without magic."

"If you say so," Hermione grinned into her glass as she took a sip, "I'm warning you though…It can get a little frustrating for some one who hasn't been exposed to Muggle culture. When I took Ron to a state fair I wanted to crawl into a hole and die."

"What is a state fair?" Draco asked, leaning in slightly, "And I'd hardly think I should be compared to Weasel."

"Oh never mind," Hermione rolled her eyes and glared at her meal as if it had insulted her mother.

"So, this weekend then? I head up to Ireland next week for our game," Draco smiled, "You should come if you're not busy."

"I'm not a fan of watching Quidditch and…" Hermione quickly stammered eyes darting around the table and not able to lock onto his.

"I'm not asking you to marry me, Granger," Draco laughed, "There's really no need to get nervous around me."

"I'm not nervous!" Hermione snapped, a little too loudly for the quite restaurant. She bit her bottom lip as a few patrons looked at them and sank in her chair, causing Draco to laugh.

She smiled shyly and sat back up where they both began laughing a little at her error. His eyes sparkled when they were met with her chocolate brown gems and he watched a slight shade of pink cross the bridge of her nose and her cheeks. Draco extended a hand, resting it lightly on hers where his thumb slowly caressed the softness of the top of her hand.

I'll be at Your Window Begging for More  
===================================================================

Rain began to drizzle over the small bistro after the pair finished their meal. Draco shrugged his traveling cloak off to drape it over Hermione but she was insistent that she didn't need it. So much for chivalry, he thought, pulling his cloak back on. Draco brought his hand to her lower back and gently led her outside where they came face to face with a throng of drenched photographers.

"Bugger," Draco moaned, prying his hand away from her back to grab onto her hand, "Let's just get out of this quickly."

"Draco! Draco!" a photographer shouted, snapping several pictures of Draco trying to push his way through the crowd while holding onto Hermione's hand. "Is that Hermione Granger?"

"Blimey! It is!" another shouted and there was a sudden draw of flashing lights.

Draco spun around, prepared to pull his wand out and hex the idiots but felt Hermione grasp onto his hand tightly and pull.

"C'mon!" she shouted, pulling him to a run.

They were chased, literally chased, through the cobble stone streets. Draco over took Hermione, still holding onto her hand as the rain pelted them and flashed echoed around them. He heard Hermione laugh when he stepped and nearly fell in a large puddle, effectively getting his brand new dragon hide shoes drenched with muddy water. Draco found himself laughing as well as they bolted through crowds with photographers following.

"In here," Draco breathed, pulling Hermione with him into a sheltered alleyway situated near the apparation point, which was crowded with people trying to leave the rain. He pinned Hermione against the wall, both chests heaving, as the throng of photographers passed by. Looking down at her with water dripped from the tip of his nose, her own hair matted down with water, Draco leaned forward.

"I think they're gone," Hermione was quick to say, moving her face when his lips were mere inches from hers, "We can…"

"They're going to be camped out there for a while," Draco replied, leaning back, "I think I twisted my ankle in that ruddy puddle."

"And here I thought you were a great Quidditch player," she laughed, as he snaked his arms around her waist.

"In the air, I'm unstoppable but the ground and I don't necessarily agree with one another," Draco shrugged, looking over the edge to see where the throng had disappeared to.

"Draco…"

"Mmm?" he hummed, turning to look at her where his eyes widened.

Her face was flushed, cheeks pink from the icy spray of the rain and something else. He felt her hand trace over his wet chest and snake into his hair. Before he knew it, he was leaning down, pressing his lips against hers lightly. Softly nipping at her lips with tiny crackling pops, Draco brought a hand to the nape of her neck and held her closer.

She tasted like lemon water and sugar. He liked it. Hermione grasped onto the back of his head, tilting her mouth slightly to deepen the kiss. He retaliated by pushing her against the wall with a small thud, tracing his tongue over her lips. When he felt her lips part, Draco took the initiative and snuck his tongue into her mouth, rolling it with hers. He heard her moan against the kiss and felt a certain straining of his pants. He groaned and tried to hide his excitement but it was no use.

Draco and Hermione parted for their kiss slowly, eyes twinkling as the rain fell around them. He smiled, as did she, and grasped onto her hand. Looking over the edge, Draco took a running chance and darted out with Hermione, running awkwardly with his hardened length bobbing quietly. The throng emerged from their shelter as they reached the Apparation point. Swinging around, Draco grasped onto Hermione and disappeared with a blink.

They arrived back at a large flat he owned in Paris. Hermione looked around as Draco pulled his coat from him.

"I got this a few years back," Draco explained, draping his coat over a chair. "It's small.. smaller… but I like it."

"Mmm," Hermione nodded, shrugging out of her coat when Draco pulled it from her to let it dry.

When she turned to look at him, Draco leaned forward and pressed his lips against hers. To his surprise, she quickly responded by snaking her hands around his waist. He groaned into the kiss, drinking from her mouth, as he slowly pushed her toward his bedroom. The rain crackled around them but it didn't matter as he soon slowly pushed her against the large white bed of his.

Hermione brought her hands to his shirt and pried it off as if it were a second skin. He pulled off her belt and slowly unzipped her skirt, tossing it to the floor. Their mouths crashed against one another as he pulled her shirt from her and unclasped his belt buckle. Hermione moaned into the kiss and rolled him onto his back, straddling him gently. Her doe eyes were lit with lust and flame as she pried her bra from her form, letting the warm air surround her. Draco's eyes skimmed over her body, marvelling at it. His eyes lingered on the small scar tracing over her and brought his fingers to it.

She winced at his touch but allowed his fingers to follow the smooth glossy skin. Bringing his lips to her throat, Draco nipped at her skin. "You're beautiful, all of you."

He held onto her back and groaned as her hips bucked against him, rubbing her centre against his growing bulge. Draco traced kissed up her throat to her lips, drinking from her mouth as he brought a hand between him to free himself. Hermione moved and with a unison moan, sank onto his erection. They rocked against one another slowly at first, building up a quick rhythm soon after.

Her fingers sank into his shoulders with bruising force as he ground her on top of him. He grunted when she pushed him back and brought her hands to his chest, her body rolling over him quicker. Draco parted his lips for a breath, felling her slick cunt surround his length. His fingers dug into her hips as he met her rhythm by thrusting upward.

"Draco," she moaned, throwing her head back in such an exotic way that Draco felt his balls tighten at the sight.

He panted and leaned back against the bed, wincing when her nails bit into his chest that left small crescent shapes in his skin. It was only a matter of time before their needs overtook the sensuality of the moment. He groaned while thrusting upward, pulling her to him where their lips met and her breasts brushed against his chest. Her moans filled the air, urging him to completion when she cried out. Her slick walls clenched around him, sucking every inch in greedily. Draco bit his own growl as his balls tightened and he sprayed her walls with his hot seed, letting out a guttural gasp.

Hermione brought her face to the crook of his neck, running her hands over his muscular arms. Both panted heavily, just lying there for a few moments.

"I'm going to be late," Hermione whispered after a moment, her breath still missing.

"I can always talk to your supervisor… I'm sure I can get you off the hook if you want to stay longer," Draco panted, running his fingers through her hair.

"Mmm, I have a meeting remember?"

"Damn," Draco sighed as Hermione rolled from him and sat at the edge of the bed.

Draco pulled his wand out and cleaned both of them while Hermione muttered a contraceptive charm, stroking her stomach lightly. He merely quirked an eyebrow when their eyes met and she flushed scarlet. It was obvious that she was envious of her friends– most of who were on the train to diapers and vomit. As much as he eventually wanted to have children, right now was not the time, and he figured she felt the same.

They dressed in silence and by the time they reached the living room, their coats had dried and the rain let up. Draco brought his hand to hers as they disapparated on his front porch to the Ministry. Hermione quickly pulled her hand from him and led the way. His nose twitched at her inability to acknowledge that they just shagged and knew she probably blocked that moment from her mind. Bugger.

He followed her lightly and held the door for her when they returned to her office. Hermione spun around and smiled.

"I had a nice lunch, thank you," she said, causing Draco to stare at her with a tad bit of disbelief.

"Er… right.. I had fun too," Draco said awkwardly, "This weekend then?"

"For?" Hermione raised an eyebrow then remembered, "Oh, yes. Don't forget our…"

"Yes, I remember," he replied, leaning in to kiss her but she backed away and extended a hand.

"Bye," she said awkwardly, to which Draco merely shook her hand and turned on his heel.

"One of these days, Granger," he said before leaving, "You're going to have to acknowledge that I'm not the same bloke from school… and that no one really cares anymore."

He left before she could say another word and closed the door tightly behind him. Looking to Gretel, Draco nodded curtly and pulled his dragon hide gloves on before leaving. Women. What could you do with them? Nothing, absolutely nothing. Damn.

===================================================================  
Author's Note  
===================================================================

I'm so sorry that I've taken so long to update. My laptop died and I had to wait on the insurance people. Good thing I just backed up my hard drive. Ok, so I have to explain a little about Hermione's reactions after their little moment so people don't hate her or me. In the first part of her POV, she mentions him 'once' trying to go in for a kiss but instead she gives him a handshake and this was particularly why. She's obviously confused, attracted, and unsure about her relationship with Draco. He understands it more than he is willing to let on, but finds it more frustrating than not. Why is she denying she has feelings for him? Think about it. They hated each other in school and now that they're showing a form of attraction to one another, it's kind of making her go into denial. So, hopefully you don't hate me for the way she's treating Draco. She cares for him, he knows it– evident from his last lines to her.


	4. Chapter 4

A/N: So sorry about how long it's taken for me to get this chapter put. I recently moved and I couldn't find my external.

Upholding Family Tradition

FALMOUTH SEEKER ISN'T SEEKING HER; SHE'S SEEKING HIM!

Pull out those handkerchiefs ladies because our very own piece of hunkasaurus has been taken off the market! Famous Quidditch seeker Draco Malfoy was seen last Thursday afternoon wrapping more than his arms around none other than war heroine and former classmate Hermione Granger. The Falmouth Falcon seeker took his new squeeze to the lovely Bon Vivant Bistro in France where the pair dined on only the best. Not wasting any time, the sexy slice of man cake snuck several nibbles at the bushy haired girl and disappeared with her shortly after. "They were snogging, literally eating each other's tonsils in a dirty alleyway," says an eyewitness. Perhaps Ms. Granger still has a thing for famous wizards. Only a few years ago she was linked with Bulgarian star Viktor Krum and the Boy to Triumphed, Harry Potter. Let's hope our Mr. Malfoy has enough sense to stay clear of the flagrant scarlet woman!

Lucius sneered at the title of the article gracing page 6 of the Daily Prophet. He folded the paper in half and slapped it onto the dining table. Narcissa looked up from her meal and paused, resting her forearms lightly onto the edge of the table.

"I tried to have Skeeter pull the article before it was printed, love," she said, eyeing Lucius as he brought his morning goblet to his lips.

"Didn't try hard enough, my dear," Lucius said before taking a sip, "This is exactly what this family needs. Our son mucking around with _that_."

"Don't you think you're being too judgmental?" she asked, cutting a piece of egg, "Hermione Granger is one of the most celebrated heroes in the world. Surely, even _you_ can't deny that."

Lucius merely looked at her from under his long blond lashes, causing Narcissa to smirk as she pulled her goblet to her lips.

"Famous or not," he began, sniffing slightly, "She is still of low birth and as such…"

"Honesty, Lucius!" Narcissa sighed, "Times _have_ changed. Perhaps you should as well."

"Are you implying that you have no qualms about our son's… relationship with that witch?" Lucius' eyes were wide with shock… or was that a little hint of disgust hiding somewhere in those fathomless grey irises?

"He is an adult, love," Narcissa shrugged, "I would rather see him happy with a Muggle-born…." Lucius nearly spat his fine freshly squeezed orange from his mouth but Narcissa continued, "With a _Muggle-born_ than any of those silly Pure-bloods."

"Who are you and what happened to my wife?" Lucius asked suspiciously, looking over his wife's beautiful form.

It seemed as if Narcissa was a fine wine, the older she got the more beautiful she became. He would most definitely have to keep her locked away when they both reach their elderly prime.

Narcissa merely smiled at Lucius and brought a hand to his resting wrist, lightly stroking it.

"You're getting too old, my love," she teased, "Perhaps a nap?"

"You're assuming I'm old enough _for_ a nap," Lucius drawled, looking at his wife's lovely face, "Unless you wish to accompany me for this said nap…"

"My, you are a dirty bird," she smirked, leaning forward as he did.

Their lips touched briefly before Lucius reached out and grasped onto the back of her head, tugging her into a deeper embrace. He could taste the sweet strawberry juice tickling his buds from her lips. Her warm breathe bathe over him like a sea of satin. He loved his wife more every day and even more now that she was far more independent in the world.

Sure, there was a time where he objected to her work. A wife should be a wife and stay home to mother the children. However, now that their child was gallivanting around with mudbloods and touring the world, there was nothing for his headstrong wife to do. So, he allowed her to indulge in common work… more like she woke him up at 3 AM one day and announced she was getting a job.

Her work at the Prophet had changed her inner snootiness, not that he had minded when she didn't work, into something more of character. She didn't let him get away with the things he had spent years saying without consequence, nor did she allow him to uphold a Grandview of their son. Draco was intelligent, handsome, and very wealthy but he was also very much his mother's son.

Lucius had an overwhelming feeling that the war hadn't only changed her and their son, but their family together. Morning breakfasts had never been so full of talk. Normally, they would eat in silence and go about their day but now…he rather enjoyed listening to his wife and having her scold him for his prejudices.

"Ahem," a voice beckoned from the doorway, breaking the pair of lovebirds apart, "It's not that I don't approve of my mum and dad snogging at the table but do I have to be privy to seeing your tongue shoved down my mother's throat?"

Lucius pulled away and tilted his head back as Narcissa wiped their kiss from her lips with her thumb and forefinger but Lucius left his alone. Draco stood at the entrance to their morning dining room with hair standing on all end. He had just woken up from a very fitful night and was clad in a grey t-shirt and black pyjama bottoms with the initials D.M. embroidered on the pocket.

"Good morning, Draco," Narcissa chimed happily, patting the seat next to her, "Did you want some breakfast before you head home?"

"Just coffee," Draco replied, striding over to sit beside his mother.

He had paid his mother and father a visit after dropping Hermione off at work and spent the rest of the day piddling around the gardens with his father. Lucius did not work, not after the war, and had far less interesting hobbies then he did in the past. As such, he turned to herbology and would often remind Draco of one of those old men who wore flannel, a large tan sun hat, and shorts with sandals who prided over their very green lawn.

In fact, Lucius had become quite the pesky lawn care man and would bark at the House-elves if they so much as stepped on one blade of grass. It was weird at first, but Draco had gotten used to it. He had to say that he was half expecting his father to find more interesting hobbies outside of plants and dirt.

"Have you seen the paper?" Lucius asked condescendingly, tossing the paper to Draco, who caught it effortlessly. "It's been upsetting your mother."

Narcissa snorted a gurgled laugh and hid her face into her goblet before receiving a glare from Lucius. Draco stiffened only slightly as he unfolded the Prophet and flipped through the pages. His eyes scanned over the print and a sneer crossed his lips.

"Rubbish," he grumbled, crumbling the paper up and tossing it onto the table, "Utter rubbish."

"At what part, Draco?" Lucius asked with a quirked brow, "The part where you were caught in a compromising act like a teenager, or that Ms. Granger has an affinity for fame?"

"The latter," Draco replied confidently, looking to Lucius, "Hermione _hates_ fame and fortune. She's had plenty of opportunity to find it if she wanted it…."

"It seems she is out to soil _our_ good name," he sneered, "That girl has had it out for the family since you were a child…"

"Lucius," Narcissa scolded, "You cannot honestly believe that…"

"I do and I think you ought to live up to your expectations," Lucius nodded, "Playing with the mudblood is fine and dandy but you _will_ be expected to marry within your ranks."

Draco rolled his eyes and ran his hand through his hair, "And who is exactly in our ranks now father? Just about every pureblood witch has gone for a wizard who isn't related to them."

"Simple," Lucius said, nodding to the House-elf who brought Draco his coffee, "Pansy Parkinson."

Narcissa and Draco, who had taken simultaneous sips of their beverages, nearly choked at the same time. Narcissa's eyes were wide with shock and Draco's were wide, not only because he just burnt his tongue but because of Lucius' serious tone.

"You've _got_ to be joking," Draco said with a gasp, biting his inner cheek until the burning sensation on his tongue disappeared, "I'd rather eat a troll's loin cloth than go out with that chit."

"I am not joking, Draco," Lucius replied, tilting his chin up with authority, "And she is one of the few wizarding families who still uphold tradition."

"Tradition is dying father," Draco replied, taking a breath through his teeth, "Pure-bloods are literally a dying race. We can't save everyone."

"As a Malfoy, if you wish to stay a Malfoy, you will uphold those traditions," Lucius explained, "I will not let this family's tradition die."

"This is ridiculous," Draco snapped, pushing his chair back, "I am an adult, father, and I shall see fit to see and marry whomever I wish."

He felt like some stupid chit from on of those romance novels where the daughter would refuse to marry the old geezer with money. How emasculating. Lucius folded his fingers together and brought them under his chin, obviously telling Draco that his word was final. Growling, Draco threw his napkin on the table and strode out of the room.

Sure he was throwing an adult temper tantrum but wouldn't you if you had expectations to marry a witch who was as loose as an African elephant? No one. Good. Right. Spot on. As soon as Draco left, Narcissa turned to Lucius with her lips parted and cheeks flushed.

_Oh gods. She was going to go on one of her tirades. Fucking hippie. _Lucius thought bitterly, eyeing her down just as she looked at him with that face.

"Pansy Parkinson?" Narcissa gaped, "She's so… unintelligent… and plain. Sure she's gotten some glamour work done but it's all fake. I would rather my son marry someone with _natural_ beauty."

"And you are assuming Ms. Granger has _natural_ beauty? I do not wish to see my grandchildren with tumbleweed growing atop their heads," Lucius sneered, bringing his hands to the table.

"I wasn't speaking about Ms. Granger, Lucius," his wife snapped, "Even if Draco wanted to marry her it shouldn't be any of our business and besides… if he did then our name would be elevated. Marrying a war hero and a Muggle-born. At least we would get out of this whole _the Malfoys are Dark wizards_ bit."

She threw her napkin on the table much like Draco had and rose from her seat, "Think about that, Lucius. I have to go to work. Why don't you go prune your petunias?"

She strode out of the room with her head held high and left a red faced Lucius staring daggers at his orange juice.


End file.
